


Settling in to River City

by EmerySaks7



Category: The Music Man
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-14 11:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmerySaks7/pseuds/EmerySaks7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little peek in to the lives of Harold Hill and Marian Paroo shortly after the events in <i>The Music Man</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Evening Call

_Disclaimer: All characters belong to Meredith Willson. No profit is intended from this short little fluff. Just a little something from my mind about a movie I love._

It was finally all out in the open. His identity had been revealed. No more secrets. No more pretending to be a leader of a band. No more Professor Harold Hill.

But truth be told, he had led a band. And, he was Harold Gregory Hill. Maybe he wasn't a professor just yet, but with time he could gain experience. And with a little bit of help from a certain librarian, he could become one. After all, he was Harold Hill. He could do just about anything he put his mind to. He had proved that time and scheme again.

But more importantly than losing the title in front of his name, more shocking than having his scheme made known, was the fact that he had found love – true love – in the midst of all the River City chaos. Just when he thought everything was under control and the train was rolling full-steam ahead –that was the moment Cupid's arrow had decided to take aim at the world-savvy con man and derail the shyster's carefully laid plan, turning the glib-tongued salesman's world upside-down. But he didn't mind, and perhaps that was the biggest surprise of all.

He had, in essence, been brought down to the level of the ordinary, working-class man by – of all things – the innocence and faith of a librarian who, despite knowing he was crook from almost day one, had still found it in her heart to love him. It had been that moment of realization – that someone loved him for who he truly was – that he realized the games, the tricks – none of it mattered anymore.

So here he was now, standing outside the River City library, patiently awaiting on his maid Marian – his, he liked the sound of it – to shoo out the last of the patrons and meet him so he could escort her home.

It had only been a few short weeks since Charlie Cowell's entrance into River City had stirred up a ruckus unseen since Farmer Thompson's crazy bull got loose in 1908. But to Harold Hill, it seemed like an eternity had come and passed.

He watched from the bottom of the stairway as Marian Paroo checked the darkened building one last time before leaving the likes of Chaucer, Rebalais and Balzac for the evening. She gave the maple wood doors a final tug, confirming that they were indeed locked, before turning around to see Harold waiting at the bottom of the steps for her.

"Top of the evening to you, Miss Paroo!"

"Harold," she rolled her eyes as she made her way down the steps, a smile breaking across her face. "You sound so silly calling me that."

"I'm glad you find it silly rather than annoying, my dear." He took her gloved hand and slipped it through the crook of his arm. "A month ago, you would have thrown stones at me."

She glanced at him as they began to walk down the street. "A month ago you would have deserved it."

"True," he chuckled. "But now?"

She laughed. "I'm not certain."

"I'm wounded Madam Librarian. Wounded." He brought a hand to his heart.

"I daresay you're not." Her eyes twinkled.

"Hmm. Perhaps you're right," he conceded her with a mischievous gleam in his own eyes. Content to feel the warmth of her hand against his coat, he fell silent for a few moments simply enjoying the cool night air and his companion's presence. As they passed through the center of town, he smiled as he caught sight of the large statue of the town's best-known patron. He would be eternally grateful to it. That was when he had first laid his eyes on a certain librarian. Chuckling aloud, he placed his free hand over Marian's and gave it a squeeze. Marian smiled, almost certain at what he was thinking, and inched a little bit closer toward Harold. As they rounded the corner from the square and ambled along Elm Street, Harold spoke.

"I think I might finally have found a place to call home."

"Really?" Marian's eyes lit up in pleasure. She had made several inquiries about possible places for him to live, because as she told him time and time again, he couldn't stay at the boardinghouse forever. And although everyone was happy to offer River City's newest citizen lodging, Harold had politely declined telling them that he was content at the boardinghouse for the time being.

Privately, Harold had confided to her that after all these years on the road, he wasn't used to having an established address. He assured her that he would eventually find a place to call his own, but had asked for her patience as he adjusted himself to the idea. Hearing this new development, Marian couldn't help but be elated. This was an enormous step for Harold, and it told her that he was finally putting down roots in River City.

"Well, Marcellus has this place –"

"Above the livery?"

"No," he shook his head. "It's a little house on East Elm."

"But why doesn't he want to use it?" she asked in confusion. "I was under the impression that he and Ethel were becoming rather serious."

"He said something about it not being large enough." He shrugged. "Whatever the reason, I stopped by this morning and looked at it."

"And?"

"It seems perfect. Nice and cozy, but still big enough to be comfortable if say, oh, a certain librarian and her family were to come and visit, maybe stay for dinner." He gave her his trademark sly grin that had a way of wooing more than just the librarian in River City.

"Harold," she blushed. "You're incorrigible."

"I've been called worse."

"I can only imagine," she remarked dryly.

"Ah, but that's all behind me, Madame Librarian. Things of the past," he told her patting her hand. "Things of the past."

"I'm glad," Marian told him earnestly as they rounded the corner. A soft light from the front porch spilled onto the sidewalk that ran in front of her home.

"So am I," Harold remarked truthfully. He opened the gate and ushered her to the front steps. "As much fun as I had pulling the wool over- ah," he stopped as he caught the disapproving glance Marian cast his way. "I meant that while getting to see much of our great nation was interesting," he amended with a cough, "the benefits of settling down far outweigh the traveling I've done." He gave her a smile.

She raised an eyebrow and gazed at him for a moment before allowing her lips to turn up into an amused smile. "Nice save, Professor."

"I thought so," he laughed lightly and reached for her hand, bringing her to a halt on the second step. Turning her towards him, he smiled and nodded his head to yard behind him. "Do you think it'd be respectable to join me on the swing for a few moments?"

"Perfectly respectable," she agreed, lacing her fingers with his and leading him to the faded white swing, content to enjoy the night air and gaze at the stars which had granted her wish for a someone to say goodnight to.


	2. Moonlight Reflections

The night air had grown a touch cooler since they had decided upon the swing, but Harold was content with the warmth his companion provided and he was happy to take advantage of the opportunity to have his sweetheart sitting so closely beside him. As is reading his mind, a soft feminine voice broke into his thoughts.

"Harold?"

He glanced down at the golden head nestled against his shoulder. "I thought you were asleep."

"No, just thinking."

"About?"

"The turn my life has taken these past few weeks."

"How so?" he asked, resting his chin against the crown of her head.

"Had someone told me a month ago that Winthrop would be talking, much less playing the coronet, I would have recommended they see Doctor Willson."

"Hmm…"

"And the members of the school board getting along; Mrs. Shinn becoming a patron of the library. I'd have thought that as likely as Farmer Thompson's bull sprouting another head."

Harold chuckled aloud at the image that conjured.

"And had someone told me that a fly-by-night salesman would appear in my life and con his way into my heart …" she trailed off.

"Now Miss Marian," Harold teased with his now-familiar phrase. "Surely, you don't think -"

"Hush," she laughed, gently swatting his arm.

Harold tightened his arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer to him, while reaching over and placing three, gentle fingers underneath her chin and tilting her face so he could gaze at her.

"And now?" he asked seriously, all trace of humor gone from his voice.

"Now … I'm happier than I've ever been," she said softly. She watched the emotion flicker across his face and grew warm when she saw the love she felt for him reflected in his gaze.

"Marian Paroo, I don't know what I did to deserve you, but …" He shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts. Not too long ago he had told her it wasn't often that he found himself at a loss for words, but lately, whenever it came to Marian, he couldn't put two sentences together. He decided that it must be love, if he, the best salesman east of the Mississippi, couldn't form a coherent thought. He finally gave up trying to voice his thoughts and settled on a simple, yet accurate, display of how he felt about her.

"You're wonderful," he whispered and placed a light kiss against her forehead.

She smiled softly in return and linked her fingers through his. Harold leaned forward and looked up and down the street. Seeing that it was deserted, he tilted his head back to glance inside the parlor window. "Do you think your mother is still in the kitchen?"

She gave him a puzzled look, but nonetheless listened for the clanging of pots. "It sounds as if she is," she replied a moment later.

"And Winthrop is asleep?"

"I would think so." She looked at him with frank curiosity.

"Good," he smiled, before leaning over and capturing her lips in a soft kiss, catching her completely off-guard. She tightened her hand on his arm and leaned into the kiss, not particularly caring about propriety at the moment. Harold had a way of doing that to her. Although he was always a perfect gentleman when it came to her and conventions of society, in the past few weeks, she had learned the pleasures of throwing propriety to the wind every now and then and living for the moment. Like now. But living on the edge of propriety was short-winded as the shrill voice of Mrs. Paroo cut through the tranquil evening.

"Maaaarian!"

Harold broke the kiss with great reluctance and pulled away, scooting a few inches away from her as the front door opened and Mrs. Paroo stepped onto the porch, glancing in the direction of the swing on the front lawn.

"Ah Marian dear. There you are. Would you and the Professor care for some jelly? I just made it."

Harold smiled. "I would love to, Mrs. Paroo, but I had a late dinner, and I don't think it would be wise."

"Ah. Yes I can see where that could be a problem," she conceded.

"What about a raincheck on that jelly? I could come by tomorrow evening," he ventured.

"Why not stay for dinner and then you can have the jelly for dessert. I'll make up a nice cake, too."

"Simply marvelous, Mrs. Paroo. With an offer like that, how can I refuse?" he grinned.

"You can't," she laughed. "I'll leave you two alone, but don't monopolize my daughter much longer, Professor." She winked at him and stepped back inside.

"Your mother's right." He reached down and took her hand. "It's getting late. I should go."

"Will you be by tomorrow?" It had become a regular routine for Harold to stop by the library in the morning before heading over to the mayor's to discuss the "band business."

"I have to meet with Mayor Shinn first thing tomorrow morning. He wants to discuss the "End of Summer" celebrations.

"Does he want the band to play?" she asked.

Harold could easily hear the concern in her voice, and he chuckled lightly. "I'm not certain. But rest assured, if he does, you'll be the first person I turn to." The dubious look she threw his way was not lost on him.

"I do possess a little musical knowledge, Marian." He squared his shoulders. "I can play the trumpet, I'll have you know."

Shock registered across her features. "But if you knew how to play, why didn't you teach the boys at rehearsals?"

"I play the trumpet, my dear." He lifted a finger. "One instrument. Treble." He grinned. "Not bass. I possess no other knowledge other than those three valves.

"If I had tried to teach them what I knew, I'd only have covered half the instruments. And then what would I have told the others, hmm?"

Marian gave him a grudging smile. "I suppose I can see the logic in that."

Chuckling, Harold took her into his arms. "My dear librarian, I do believe I'm corrupting you."

"Go home," she told him swatting his shoulder.

"I plan to," he laughed, holding his shoulder in mock pain. "But not without a proper goodbye."

She extended her hand to him. Smiling, he took it and folder his larger hand around it, bringing it to his chest and drawing her closer to him. "Silly woman."

"You did say proper," she admonished, a twinkle in her eyes.

"I did," he agreed. "Perhaps I should have said improper?" He briefly brushed his lips across hers.

"Perhaps," she murmured. "My mother ..." She glanced at the parlor window.

Harold understood. As fond as he was of Mrs. Paroo and she of him, he didn't think she would take too kindly to their public display of affection.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he promised, releasing her hand and taking a step away. "By noontime, if not sooner."

"I'll be waiting."

"Dream of me?" he asked as he made his way to the gate.

"You know I will. And you?" she smiled, making her way up the porch steps.

"I always do. Goodnight my someone," he called back.

"Goodnight my love."


End file.
